


Go to Hell, Sherlock

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little s4 fic, Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Psychological Drama, Psychological tw, Sherlock needs John, T6T, The Six Thatchers Spoilers, and sherlock will find out what havoc she left behind, drug use tw, mary isn't who she said she was, s4 related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9190469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As always, thank you for all the love





	

_You made a vow, Sherlock_

_You swore to it._

Sherlock opened his eyes to the dark room around him, his sheets slick with the sweat of his nightmare. He could feel his heart beating in his throat and the rush of blood pumping through his veins, but this.. _this_ feeling wasn’t right. He normally would love to feel the rush of a case, but this was unlike any he’d ever experienced. He was completely alone. 

He rolled over in bed and tried to go back to sleep but he could see her face on the back eyelids every time he closed his eyes. Despite the sweat of fear that coated him, he shivered from the cold of the flat. 

He rolled out of bed and looked at his phone. 

_3:25_

He groaned and walked to the kitchen, putting tea on the stove and walking to the living room. He looked at his wall and grimaced. Pictures and strings covered the wall above the couch completely. He sat down and felt the smooth leather of his chair. He had turned the chair to face the couch earlier. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of the chair. 

_The Curtain Rises._

_You don’t tell John, Sherlock._

_People like Magnussen are meant to be killed, that’s why there are people like me._

_Go to hell, Sherlock._

Sherlock woke up to the screaming of the kettle. He stood and and started to walk to the kitchen, but he stopped before entering. Something felt off. Something felt _wrong_. A change in the stale air of the empty flat. 

“Moriarty..”

Sherlock turned, expecting to see the consulting criminal, but was shocked when he saw Mary. She stood by the window, staring out at the street. He took a step towards her but he heard the cocking of a gun and stopped. She turned and held the gun out, aimed at Sherlock’s heart. 

“Did you miss me?”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, you’re dead. You’re dead. I saw you die.”

She tilted her head and watched him. Her eyes held no sign of mercy and stared down at him as if she could read his soul. 

“How are you alive?”

She pulled the trigger and Sherlock saw the gun flash, the bullet speeding towards his heart. Her body shuddered and then disappeared, as if she was never there. The bullet shimmered and disappeared in the air. 

He walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of tea. The tea burned his throat but he didn’t care. He needed to make sure that he was still alive after what just happened. 

Mary was dead. She’d been cremated. She was dead. There’s no coming back from that. He’d seen it. There was no way to fake it. And yet she still haunted him. She always aimed for the heart, but the bullet never hit the target. Maybe because she didn’t need bullets to break his heart. 

\---

John held Rosie against his shoulder and patted her back comfortingly. Her cries ceased momentarily and she spit up on the towel before starting to cry again. He set her down in her crib and put the towel down before grabbing a wet wipe and cleaning the spit up off her mouth. 

He heard his phone buzz against the table by her crib and he picked it up, checking to see who it was before he took it. 

“Hello, Molly.”

He spoke to Molly quietly as he took care of Rosie and put her down for a nap. He walked out of the nursery and dared to raise his voice to a normal speaking volume. He hung up the phone and looked around his flat. The living room was cluttered with baby books and toys, clothes and pacifiers. 

He never fully felt like he was at home anymore. Everything was off. Nothing felt right and he couldn’t sleep at night because of it. 

His phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. 

\---

“How many times are you going to do this, Sherlock? I thought we were over this. I thought you were clean.”

Mycroft glared at Sherlock. His anger overshadowing the fear he felt when he walked into 221b and found his little brother curled up on the floor, unconscious. 

“I am clean. I just...I had to find her.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. He’d heard all the excuses by now.

“Who?”

“Mary.”

Mycroft stopped pacing and slowly looked at Sherlock. 

“Mary’s dead, Sherlock. If you want to find her then you should talk to a psychic.”

He turned and walked out of the hospital room and almost bumped into John. He stopped and looked at the shorter man. It’d been a month since they John and Sherlock last spoke and this is what happens when Sherlock loses something he loves. Mycroft connected the dots and nodded a greeting at John before walking down the hall and out of the hospital. 

John walked into the hospital room and looked at Sherlock for the first time in a month. His hair had grown unmanaged and he hadn’t bothered to shave. His skin looked greasy and pale and his eyes looked sunken in. This isn’t the man John knew as Sherlock Holmes. 

John clenched and unclenched his fists as he tried to figure out what to say.

“How’s Rosie?” Sherlock had opened his eyes and was now watching as John thought. 

“Same as always. Hasn’t even noticed her absence.”

Sherlock pushed himself into a sitting position and watched John. His face appeared calm, but his eyes showed his sorrow. He cleared his throat and started to apologize, but John stopped him.

“Shut up, Sherlock. Just…shut up.”

Sherlock’s emotions betrayed him and he flinched with every word John said. He looked down and didn’t speak. He barely even breathed. 

John closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath before starting again.

“Shut up, because I don’t need to hear you apologize again for something that isn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize for Mary’s past, and you don’t need to apologize for Mary’s actions. She threw herself in front of the bullet. _She_ got herself killed. I can’t hold you accountable for her death. You made a vow, and you kept that vow. You were always there for us, and you tried your hardest. I’m sorry I blamed you for her death, and I’m sorry that I sent you away...countless times..”

_The room was silent except for the beeping of the machines and the breathing of two men. John looked up at Sherlock._

"John…” 

_“I’m sorry, Sherlock.”_

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for all the love


End file.
